Folks – I just got back from this and could not sleep, so I am writing this.  I am so exhausted, I cannot sleep.  But I HAD to be part of this.  It has deeply moved me.

What a HERO that man was for standing up to tyranny.  I drove from 9am to 5am the next morning just to get to St George and pulled into the Mountain Meadows parking lot to crash in the back of my “party van”/road warrior machine.  After I got the family checked into the hotel at noon, off it was to Kanab, UT.  Past another group of persecuted and outcast people – many who simply will never fit into the “babylon model”……

In Kanab, it was as I expected.  Unmarked white cars with antennas all over the place.  I had heard that the local county Sheriff told the FBI and other alphabits to get the hell out.  Apparently, there was a power struggle as the FBI has to be breaking a law before they can be arrested.  The BLM “temple” there in Kanab (pictures to follow) was deserted – interesting for a Friday work day…..

When I got to the Stake Center there, it was jam-packed.  Trucks and horse trailers everywhere.  It was a somber, yet party atmosphere.  I ran into people from LA, Sacramento and all over.  I was able to find a seat in the Stake High Council room.  I was there over half an hour early and there was standing room only after that.  I got one of the last seats.

I have to say that I felt out of place.  I simply did not have a cowboy hat and boots.  Not those prissy dress boots that the “fakes” wear, but the real worn work boots that a genuine article wears.  I overheard a lot of talk of breeding bulls and ranch concerns; real people with real lives – all being impinged upon by their overlords and task masters.  Half the straw, double the bricks……

I estimate that there were around 3000-4000 people there.  I pointed out to somebody that one way to tell the measure of a man/woman is by how many people show up to their funeral.  Good or bad.  You get more brownie points if you can get a good draw on a weekday in a hard-to-get-to location.  LaVoy was a hero, a damned fine man and one who was loved.  I shed a LOT of tears while each one of his children got up and eulogized him for several minutes each.  Not a single sideways word – just talk of how he was their hero and what an awesome dad he was.  Prayer morning and night as a family and scripture reading every day plus FHE on Mondays and attendance at all meetings.  How do you go eleven for eleven on your kids?  By spending time with them working hard – and them knowing you love them.  I envy a man who can raise his kids working side by side with them doing hard things.  Things are never easy – there will be stresses etc – but the bonds are probably unbreakable.

The hardest part for me, was hearing the girls (most old enough to be married), letting out a mournful yelp of pain when they commented on how he died.  He had spent the time with them to the point that EACH one felt like they were special and a daddy’s girl.  I can tell.  I have a few of my own.  One commented on how her dad was murdered.  There were no real political comments other than that.  It was an amazing outpouring of love and a great display of the gospel plan – not much unlike the funeral of my own boy.  Some of the best sermons are those preached when people are humble enough to receive the message.  I have to wonder how many people determined to change their lives, then and there.  If I have anything to say about it – I want those who shot that good man in cold blood – to have to face each of those kids and that widow and watch the effects that the loss of their daddy had on them.  Those sunzaB’s are going to have to pass thru the ultimate judgment – and I know it will not be “well with them” if they have not repented of this act.

On that note, please watch this footage of the three shots that were fired into LaVoy’s body AFTER it was all over and the truck had been shot up (to get rid of any further witnesses).  In this clip, you will see the rifle of the guy near LaVoy’s head recoil three times as he pumps those three shots into his head.  They rendered NO assistance – no more than one would to a rabid dog.  Those damnable children of hell.  What resistance did LaVoy render other than to try to get to safety so that the women in his vehicle had safe passage?  What guns were fired in the “shootout” from the rancher camp?  None – THAT is the answer.  A generation of vipers shall not escape the damnations of hell….

Here is the footage:    https://youtu.be/4EXarvY7HVo?t=35

It happened just as Victoria (the young lady in the truck) said it did.  Three more shots to finish him off.  That, folks – is an execution….. And those merc, sunzaB’s will pay that family in an earthly court of law.  That was so extra-Constitutional that it was not even funny.  I had to simultaneously laugh and cry while singing a Poor Wayfaring Man of Grief before the final speakers.  They sang verses 1, 5, 6 and 7 – and I had to say I was a little baffled as to why they skipped until I read the words and then I simply could not sing verse 5:

Lyrics

  1. 1. A poor, wayfaring Man of grief
    Hath often crossed me on my way,
    Who sued so humbly for relief
    That I could never answer nay.
    I had not pow’r to ask his name,
    Whereto he went, or whence he came;
    Yet there was something in his eye
    That won my love; I knew not why.
  2. 5. Stript, wounded, beaten nigh to death,
    I found him by the highway side.
    I roused his pulse, brought back his breath,
    Revived his spirit, and supplied
    Wine, oil, refreshment–he was healed.
    I had myself a wound concealed,
    But from that hour forgot the smart,
    And peace bound up my broken heart.
  3. 6. In pris’n I saw him next, condemned
    To meet a traitor’s doom at morn.
    The tide of lying tongues I stemmed,
    And honored him ‘mid shame and scorn.
    My friendship’s utmost zeal to try,
    He asked if I for him would die.
    The flesh was weak; my blood ran chill,
    But my free spirit cried, “I will!”
  4. 7. Then in a moment to my view
    The stranger started from disguise.
    The tokens in his hands I knew;
    The Savior stood before mine eyes.
    He spake, and my poor name he named,
    “Of me thou hast not been ashamed.
    These deeds shall thy memorial be;
    Fear not, thou didst them unto me.”
  5. Text: James Montgomery, 1771-1854
    Music: George Coles, 1792-1858, alt.
    Hymn sung prior to the martyrdom of the Prophet Joseph Smith. See History of the Church, 6:614-15.
I have to say, when we got to verse 5, I simply could not sing – and that was BEFORE I had seen the footage where they “finished him”. Damnable soul-less mercs……

I have been trying to decide how to get rid of the $600 or so dollars in revenue that the single ad on this blog has brought in since last summer when I turned it on to see what this dog and pony show could do.  I had about $300 in cash on me and I found family outside the funeral proceedings and gave the wad to them.  When I am able to process all this information I have gotten, I will be able to put up an address where you can send letters of support and consolation, as well as any funds you would like to support the family.  I will also post the FB page where you can send support.  When I get a chance, I will post photos of the event including the harassing drones that were flying above us – circling the Stake Center about 200-300 feet up non-stop.  I think they might have filmed a few “birds” from the ground that were beamed back to them.  Twas not me, but let’s just say I fist bumped a few of the “offenders”.  One was a couple from LA that were in the parking lot chain smoking.  A two hour funeral is a long time……  Kind a surreal moment, congratulating someone who is in the parking lot of an LDS chapel smoking away and delivering a single finger salute.  I would definitely say that goes in the “first ever” bucket…..
Folks – we live in a POLICE STATE.  SunzaBs……..they will all swing from trees.  From the top down.  It will be a sweet moment.  Trust me.  I need goals in this life to keep me happy and moving along.  This is one of my foremost goals.  Come and get me if you don’t like it.  You cowardly, excrement – you cannot lock up every good man and woman who still has the spark of the divine shining within them in this once-great land.  The only thing you have above the very god of this fallen world, lucifer himself, is that you have a body.  But you have no soul – if you support this kind of tyranny.  You simply will go to hell if you do not repent of your murders right NOW.  Time is short for your “victorious” rampages.  And then it is lights out.  The masters you serve are life-limited like stale bread.  And they will get taken to the curb like the common pieces of trash that they are.
Please pray for the Finicums and the Bundys.  It will be a long road for them.  Justice will prevail either here or over there.  The more I see, the more I realize this was Carthage 2.0  Just as those shots sparked a social revolution, so have these shots.  The “boys from the mountains” will come out on top.  My next blog piece will be about that very topic and prophecy.

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Folks – I just got back from this and could not sleep, so I am writing this.  I am so exhausted, I cannot sleep.  But I HAD to be part of this.  It has deeply moved me.

What a HERO that man was for standing up to tyranny.  I drove from 9am to 5am the next morning just to get to St George and pulled into the Mountain Meadows parking lot to crash in the back of my “party van”/road warrior machine.  After I got the family checked into the hotel at noon, off it was to Kanab, UT.  Past another group of persecuted and outcast people – many who simply will never fit into the “babylon model”……

In Kanab, it was as I expected.  Unmarked white cars with antennas all over the place.  I had heard that the local county Sheriff told the FBI and other alphabits to get the hell out.  Apparently, there was a power struggle as the FBI has to be breaking a law before they can be arrested.  The BLM “temple” there in Kanab (pictures to follow) was deserted – interesting for a Friday work day…..

When I got to the Stake Center there, it was jam-packed.  Trucks and horse trailers everywhere.  It was a somber, yet party atmosphere.  I ran into people from LA, Sacramento and all over.  I was able to find a seat in the Stake High Council room.  I was there over half an hour early and there was standing room only after that.  I got one of the last seats.

I have to say that I felt out of place.  I simply did not have a cowboy hat and boots.  Not those prissy dress boots that the “fakes” wear, but the real worn work boots that a genuine article wears.  I overheard a lot of talk of breeding bulls and ranch concerns; real people with real lives – all being impinged upon by their overlords and task masters.  Half the straw, double the bricks……

I estimate that there were around 3000-4000 people there.  I pointed out to somebody that one way to tell the measure of a man/woman is by how many people show up to their funeral.  Good or bad.  You get more brownie points if you can get a good draw on a weekday in a hard-to-get-to location.  LaVoy was a hero, a damned fine man and one who was loved.  I shed a LOT of tears while each one of his children got up and eulogized him for several minutes each.  Not a single sideways word – just talk of how he was their hero and what an awesome dad he was.  Prayer morning and night as a family and scripture reading every day plus FHE on Mondays and attendance at all meetings.  How do you go eleven for eleven on your kids?  By spending time with them working hard – and them knowing you love them.  I envy a man who can raise his kids working side by side with them doing hard things.  Things are never easy – there will be stresses etc – but the bonds are probably unbreakable.

The hardest part for me, was hearing the girls (most old enough to be married), letting out a mournful yelp of pain when they commented on how he died.  He had spent the time with them to the point that EACH one felt like they were special and a daddy’s girl.  I can tell.  I have a few of my own.  One commented on how her dad was murdered.  There were no real political comments other than that.  It was an amazing outpouring of love and a great display of the gospel plan – not much unlike the funeral of my own boy.  Some of the best sermons are those preached when people are humble enough to receive the message.  I have to wonder how many people determined to change their lives, then and there.  If I have anything to say about it – I want those who shot that good man in cold blood – to have to face each of those kids and that widow and watch the effects that the loss of their daddy had on them.  Those sunzaB’s are going to have to pass thru the ultimate judgment – and I know it will not be “well with them” if they have not repented of this act.

On that note, please watch this footage of the three shots that were fired into LaVoy’s body AFTER it was all over and the truck had been shot up (to get rid of any further witnesses).  In this clip, you will see the rifle of the guy near LaVoy’s head recoil three times as he pumps those three shots into his head.  They rendered NO assistance – no more than one would to a rabid dog.  Those damnable children of hell.  What resistance did LaVoy render other than to try to get to safety so that the women in his vehicle had safe passage?  What guns were fired in the “shootout” from the rancher camp?  None – THAT is the answer.  A generation of vipers shall not escape the damnations of hell….

Here is the footage:    https://youtu.be/4EXarvY7HVo?t=35

It happened just as Victoria (the young lady in the truck) said it did.  Three more shots to finish him off.  That, folks – is an execution….. And those merc, sunzaB’s will pay that family in an earthly court of law.  That was so extra-Constitutional that it was not even funny.  I had to simultaneously laugh and cry while singing a Poor Wayfaring Man of Grief before the final speakers.  They sang verses 1, 5, 6 and 7 – and I had to say I was a little baffled as to why they skipped until I read the words and then I simply could not sing verse 5:

Lyrics

  1. 1. A poor, wayfaring Man of grief
    Hath often crossed me on my way,
    Who sued so humbly for relief
    That I could never answer nay.
    I had not pow’r to ask his name,
    Whereto he went, or whence he came;
    Yet there was something in his eye
    That won my love; I knew not why.
  2. 5. Stript, wounded, beaten nigh to death,
    I found him by the highway side.
    I roused his pulse, brought back his breath,
    Revived his spirit, and supplied
    Wine, oil, refreshment–he was healed.
    I had myself a wound concealed,
    But from that hour forgot the smart,
    And peace bound up my broken heart.
  3. 6. In pris’n I saw him next, condemned
    To meet a traitor’s doom at morn.
    The tide of lying tongues I stemmed,
    And honored him ‘mid shame and scorn.
    My friendship’s utmost zeal to try,
    He asked if I for him would die.
    The flesh was weak; my blood ran chill,
    But my free spirit cried, “I will!”
  4. 7. Then in a moment to my view
    The stranger started from disguise.
    The tokens in his hands I knew;
    The Savior stood before mine eyes.
    He spake, and my poor name he named,
    “Of me thou hast not been ashamed.
    These deeds shall thy memorial be;
    Fear not, thou didst them unto me.”
  5. Text: James Montgomery, 1771-1854
    Music: George Coles, 1792-1858, alt.
    Hymn sung prior to the martyrdom of the Prophet Joseph Smith. See History of the Church, 6:614-15.
I have to say, when we got to verse 5, I simply could not sing – and that was BEFORE I had seen the footage where they “finished him”. Damnable soul-less mercs……

I have been trying to decide how to get rid of the $600 or so dollars in revenue that the single ad on this blog has brought in since last summer when I turned it on to see what this dog and pony show could do.  I had about $300 in cash on me and I found family outside the funeral proceedings and gave the wad to them.  When I am able to process all this information I have gotten, I will be able to put up an address where you can send letters of support and consolation, as well as any funds you would like to support the family.  I will also post the FB page where you can send support.  When I get a chance, I will post photos of the event including the harassing drones that were flying above us – circling the Stake Center about 200-300 feet up non-stop.  I think they might have filmed a few “birds” from the ground that were beamed back to them.  Twas not me, but let’s just say I fist bumped a few of the “offenders”.  One was a couple from LA that were in the parking lot chain smoking.  A two hour funeral is a long time……  Kind a surreal moment, congratulating someone who is in the parking lot of an LDS chapel smoking away and delivering a single finger salute.  I would definitely say that goes in the “first ever” bucket…..
Folks – we live in a POLICE STATE.  SunzaBs……..they will all swing from trees.  From the top down.  It will be a sweet moment.  Trust me.  I need goals in this life to keep me happy and moving along.  This is one of my foremost goals.  Come and get me if you don’t like it.  You cowardly, excrement – you cannot lock up every good man and woman who still has the spark of the divine shining within them in this once-great land.  The only thing you have above the very god of this fallen world, lucifer himself, is that you have a body.  But you have no soul – if you support this kind of tyranny.  You simply will go to hell if you do not repent of your murders right NOW.  Time is short for your “victorious” rampages.  And then it is lights out.  The masters you serve are life-limited like stale bread.  And they will get taken to the curb like the common pieces of trash that they are.
Please pray for the Finicums and the Bundys.  It will be a long road for them.  Justice will prevail either here or over there.  The more I see, the more I realize this was Carthage 2.0  Just as those shots sparked a social revolution, so have these shots.  The “boys from the mountains” will come out on top.  My next blog piece will be about that very topic and prophecy.

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